ossed them,
their presence was known only by a splashing noise, and the difficulty
with which she drew her feet from the mud.

At last they found a good straight road, and when they came to the end
of it, and Germain tried to discover where he was, he saw that he was
lost. For Father Maurice had told him, when he explained the way, that
on leaving the wood he must descend a very steep hillside, cross a wide
meadow, and ford the river twice. He had even warned him to cross this
river carefully; for, early in the season, there had been great rains,
and the water might still be higher than usual. Seeing neither hillside
nor meadows, nor river, but a heath, level and white as a mantle of
snow, Germain stopped, looked about for a house, and waited for a
passer-by, but could find nothing to set him right. Then he retraced his
steps and reentered the wood. But the mist thickened yet more, the moon
was completely hidden, the roads were execrable, and the quagmires deep.
Twice the gray almost fell. Her heavy load made her lose courage, and
although she kept enough sagacity to avoid the tree-trunks, she could
not prevent her riders from striking the great branches which overhung
the road at the height of their heads and caused them great danger.
In one of these collisions Germain lost his hat, and only recovered it
after much difficulty. Petit-Pierre had fallen asleep, and, lying like
a log in his father's arms, hampered him so that he could no longer hold
up nor direct the horse.

"I believe we are bewitched," exclaimed Germain, stopping; "for the
wood is not large enough to get lost in, if a man is not drunk, and here
we have been turning round and round for two hours at least, without
finding a way out. The gray has but one idea in her head, and that is to
get home. It is she who is deceiving me. If we wish to go home, we have
only to give her the bit. But when we are perhaps but two steps from
our journey's end, it would be foolish to give up and return such a long
road; and yet I am at a loss what to do. I cant see sky or earth, and
I am afraid that the child will catch the fever if we remain in this
cursed fog, or that he will be crushed beneath our weight if the horse
falls forward."

"We must not persist longer," said little Marie. "Let 's dismount,
Germain. Give me the child; I can carry him perfectly well, and I know
better than you how to keep the cloak from falling open and leaving
him exposed. You lead the mare by